


Lay Your Burden Down

by Lidsworth



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, basically bucky wakes t'challa from a nightmare and fluff ensues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 19:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: This time, Bucky helps T’Challa.orGod...T'Challa was terrified.  And who could blame him? He had almost died, fallen to his death. And that...that was a feeling Bucky could relate to all too well.





	Lay Your Burden Down

**Author's Note:**

> I think about how Bucky fell to his ‘death’, and T’Challa did the same thing. I plan to make a fic (actually the next chapter will delve into that) where I elaborate on what this means for both of them in depth, but for now I Just wanted to write this drabble. 
> 
> I wrote it late, at like 1 a.m in the morning XD I wanted to get it out of my head, so there will be mistakes! Come chat with me on my [tumblr](https://inkstranger.tumblr.com/)!

He woke to screaming, blood curdling screaming. It echoed down the halls, ricocheting against the walls and jolting Bucky out of his sleep. 

 

He jerked his head upward, looking through the darkness of the hall, illuminated only by the pale moonlight that seeped through the windows. 

  
It has been  _ ages  _ since Bucky had heard something  _ scream  _ like that, ages since it hadn’t been one of his victims. 

 

Ages since it hadn’t been him. 

 

And perhaps that’s what terrified him the most. The fact that someone in the seemingly impenetrable, highly secure Wakandan palace was screaming as if they were being murdered. And what terrified Bucky even more was that the screaming sounded as if it was coming from T’Challa’s room. 

 

As if it were the King himself. 

 

Bucky hadn't even registered the moment his bare feet had connected with the ground, or when he was literally gliding through the hallway and bursting into the King's chambers entirely unannounced.  He made it there  faster than the Dora Milaje, having fallen asleep on a windowsill not far from T’Challa’s room anyway (Shuri had showed him the spot when he’d first felt comfortable enough to be in the palace, and he’d spent hours at a time looking at the night sky, letting the stars take him back to a better time). 

 

“T’Challa?” He called aloud, worriedly, as he frantically searched the ridiculously large room for the light switch, “Is everything okay?”  He shuffled through the darkness, finally accepting that there was most likely  _ not  _ a light switch anywhere  (and it made sense, with Wakanda being as technological as it was. The light was probably voice automated). 

 

He managed to stumble to the King’s bedside, the normally spotless room quite unorganized, and found T’challa in a cocoon of sweat soaked sheets, tossing and turning, scream stifled only due to T’Challa’s entrapment. 

 

Hesitantly, Bucky’s hands hovered above the King. 

 

He hadn’t known him that well, at all. He knew Shuri very well, of course. But her brother,   the King, was more of an enigma to him.  Someone he’d only seen in between quick glimpses, hurried conversations, and other small moments that Bucky had oddly begun to savor (he wouldn’t lie to himself, he had developed feelings for the King. And how couldn’t he? The man had practically saved him. But Bucky was smart enough to keep such feelings to himself). 

  
If Bucky could find a word, he supposed that T’Challa was like an acquaintance of some sort. 

 

But that didn’t matter. 

 

Curled up, screams muffled, and twisting in his sheets, he was very,  _ very  _ vulnerable. 

 

Touching him seemed out of the question, inappropriate almost. Comforting him even more so.  But Bucky refused to let the younger man wallow in his own fears. 

 

“T’Challa, wake up,” Bucky soothed, shaking the king gently,  “It’s just a dream….well a nightmare. But you’re fine now. You’re here.” 

 

He repeated this for about ten minutes, speaking to the king until he calmed slightly, and until his cries died down. Bucky was incredibly patient, the entire process reminiscent of Steve and his nightmares. 

 

Eventually T’Challa’s breathing steadied somewhat, but he was still very obviously on edge. And slowly, he began to peak out of his cocoon of sheets, trembling vigorously as he did so.  Bucky met his eyes almost immediately, his enhanced vision, adapting to the darkness, enabling him to see the king clear as day. 

 

His eyes were red, eyes dilated, and tear streaks down his cheeks. 

 

God...he was terrified. 

 

Bucky couldn’t help himself, he plopped down onto the bed and wrapped T’Challa into a tight embrace, leaning against the bedframe and letting the King rest against his body. T’Challa stiffened slightly, breathing hitching as he relaxed into Bucky’s arms. 

 

Bucky, however, fell into the routine quite naturally, bringing his flesh arm upwards to stroke the side of T’Challa’s face. 

 

“I was falling,” mutered the king after some time, his voice raw and small, vulnerable, “Off of the waterfall. I couldn’t get out of the water, I couldn’t get out. I heard my sister and my mother screaming for me. Nakia and Oyeke were too, and I was...I was dying, James. I couldn’t get up, I could breath. My lungs were on fire, my…” With every word that came out of his mouth, his voice rose and cracked, his eyes watered, and Bucky could feel the tears on his arm 

  
Bucky had only  _ heard  _ of what T’Challa had gone through, being spared the more gruesome of the details. He never got a chance to ask the King about the entire ordeal, but had wanted to share his condolences for everything that had happened. But that time that he had attempted to do so,  T’Challa seemed to brush his concern off, appearing as if nothing had phased him. 

 

But he hadn’t known Bucky, and as a king, had felt need to mask his true feelings. 

 

His fear. He had almost died, fallen to his death. And that...that was a feeling Bucky could relate to all too well. It was no wonder the king was screaming in his sleep. He had been terrified of dying. 

 

“Shh, T’Challa,” Bucky soothed him, “It’s okay, you’re fine now. You’re here now,  _ alive.  _  Nothing is going to hurt you….I...I promise.”  The end was odd, yes, but Bucky couldn’t leave him with false hope. It was quite obvious that he felt unsafe, even if it was slightly delusional, so the former Winter Soldier sought to comfort the King anyway he could. 

 

There was silence, a pregnant pause as Bucky continued to stroke T’Challa’s face. Then there was a deep rumble against Bucky’s chest, a rumble coming from T’Challa. 

 

Laughter. 

 

“You promise?” Asked the King through the brokenness of his voice, yet  he was clearly amused. Bucky’s face darkened just slightly, and he felt a blush creeping on his cheeks.

 

He cleared his throat, and spoke. 

 

“You did everything you could for me, brought me back to Wakanda even when you didn’t have to,” Bucky admitted, fingers still brushing against T’Challa’s skin, “I owe you my life.” 

 

“It is not your job to protect me Bucky,” T’Challa responded. 

 

“I know,” Bucky managed, careful, “It’s just...I’ve been used to do a lot of things in my life I didn’t have a choice to do. I’ve protected some pretty shitty people, and killed really good one. And you...you’re so good to me. You didn’t have to help me, but you did. And I just want to pay you back, and not even because I owe you, but because you’re just a genuinely kind person, and I want to help you. It’s the one thing in ages that I get to chose. You’re like...my next assignment--” 

 

“James, you do not owe me,” T’Challa silenced the rambling man, “And you’re doing fine by just being here with me.”    
  


Hesitantly, T’Challa turned around in Bucky’s grasps and wrapped his own arms around the older man. Gently, he pulled Bucky down into the bed with him. 

 

Bucky complied, face positively burning as T’Challa pulled him down. 

  
Not an hour later, they fell asleep in one another’s arms. 

 

(And the Dora, having not a minute after Sergeant Barnes, watch in silent vigil, exiting the room after the Soldier calms the King. And if any of them giggle at the scene before them, with their king cuddled snugly beside Bucky, they say nothing of it in the morning). 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! The next chapter will be more in depth, angsty. Also I wanna build up on this idea with Bucky being so willing to protect T'Chall XD It's gonna be an angsty fic too!


End file.
